For today’s poem, we are supposed to take a line from a poem written earlier this month and make it the title of our new poem. I decided to borrow a line from my Day 7 Poem about profession – “Your dream to climb the fandom ladder”
Your Dream – to Climb the Fandom Ladder
Is surely a fine specimen of dream
Dreamt by a teenage girl
Her head in the books and posters of stars
On her walls.
Then we’ll slurp some nasty drinks in a
Swamp of fakeness
Around people of influence –
And we’ll stop amidst our throwing up
To wonder if that is really
What we want.
As in tearful
But, you know, I’m tired
Of writing tears and solemnity
In these letters, girl.
Salty is like poison
Gradually, you will get tired
So, not rarely it’s fine
To go with the flow.
This day’s two for Tuesday is to write a Love poem or an Anti-love poem. I chose to write a poem about my opinion on “anti-love”.
I can never speak to you anti-love, girl
For love is all that can help you
When you’re down
All you can lean on and look up to
When you lose ground
Even in ages and millennia to come
I can never be anti-love.
His Toxic Rub
Against our skin
Although we knew he was a con
Yet, we closed our eyes to what
Our reason whispered.
How he embarrassed us
We flushed with shame and we were naked
In the square…
For all the world to laugh at us and spit
In our direction.
All that came to pass
There is no scar
But the initial which I razored
On my shoulder.
The oldest oxymoron in the world
“Sweet pain” would fit here,
If it wasn’t so outdated
And so stale.
Who doesn’t love them?
Who wouldn’t care
For a furry, fluffy, cutie bear?
All cuddly toys, your bunny most of all
Use up their fluff in blotting in the whole
Barrel of regrets, complaints, harsh secrets
And the rest of your growing up
To be what I am today
A middle-aged auntie who remained.
Out of curiosity, I searched my poems for my other Teddy-bear piece, for I remember writing one. It turns out it was written for November Poem-a-Day again, in 2013. Here it is, I hope you enjoy, and, well, it does have a different ring to it.
“The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong at the broken places.”
E. Hemingway, Farewell to Arms
I still love the “broken” topic
Just as much as you do
Only, I try to look less like it
For it’s too obvious, and that gives it a bad smell
One crucial point of aesthetics is
You need to keep it subtle
In order to impress.
The noisier, the more vulgar.
And we are anything but vulgar.
And just for sake of curiosity, here is another “broken poem” which I have written for the November Poem-a-day Chapbook challenge, and it’s called Football Haiku. I was surprised by its lightness. Almost couldn’t believe it was me who did write it.
You know how you often look up
To people who are brave,
And standing all bright and erect?
How you often think if you’d ever
Be like them?
Myriads of youngsters imbibing the
Inspiration you radiate,
Looking up to you.
But do you ever think about
The way they feel?
Do they know what they are,
Do they live up to their fame?
Does a brave hero know she’s brave?
And does she feel any different from you?
Getting up in the morning,
Does she think: Today, I’m gonna
Crash monsters, free peasants
And be crowned a queen by dusk?
Or does she, perhaps, go reluctantly
Out of bed
And straight to coffee
Brooding sullenly on what’s to come
And not feeling like doing it,
For, perhaps, she prefers to
Just lie down with her book
And read about the brave
Instead of acting it?
Still, someone has to save the day,
Eight years ago, during my first November Poem-A-Day Chapbook Challenge, I remember I had to write a “pro-” poem. Then, I wrote “Pro-Pasta“. This time around, it’s not about pasta I poem.
Anti society and its stale values
Anti all the old-fashioned,
Traditional, patriarchal, family-centered
Women-effacing values and rules
And will be
Anti all that goes without explanation
That is taken for granted
For rule of thumb
Without any questioning
Anti because innate!
How hungry I am all the time
Even when I’m not
And it’s not just food.
But when I was you…
I was never really craving food
Still, my appetite was unquenchable
Joy, love, glory, that thing of no name…
Especially that thing –
It hasn’t disappeared and it hasn’t got
A proper name yet.
Although I got much of what I hadn’t craved for,
I still feel the same old hunger
For the nameless thing.
Today’s the first Tuesday in the challenge month, so it’s time for Two for Tuesday!
A Quiet Poem or a Loud Poem
It’s a secret not kept well
That you are loud and fuss like hell
But you won’t be so shocked to know
You’ll get far quieter as you grow.